


Which witch is which?

by Minne_My



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29876406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minne_My/pseuds/Minne_My
Summary: AU. Hecate is so over people knocking on her door
Relationships: Ada Cackle & Hecate Hardbroom
Kudos: 4





	Which witch is which?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this Tumblr post: https://memeclassheroes.tumblr.com/post/640852383542476800

Wychwood forest was a mysterious place, full of wrackspurts and helipoaths and blibbering humdingers. Sometimes you'd even see a crumple horned snorcack galloping along. But of all the weird and wonderful creatures in that place, the tall hot goth that lived in the cottage on the edge of the forest was one that people were most interested to get a glimpse of.

Sometimes she was to be sighted pottering around in her garden, lovingly tending the foliage. Reading by the window by candlelight, which was particularly irritating when people wanted to stop and chat. Sometimes she'd be spotted stirring a cauldron of sorcery. In reality, it was just a batch of scotch broth but it didn't do her reputation any harm to cultivate an air of antagonistic mystery. Her speciality was rooted in nature, green magic, the fresh breath of the wilderness. Herbs soothed her, made her feel comfortable with the world around her. She liked to see them free and dancing in the breeze, not trapped in those little plastic bags like in the supermarkets. Hecate Hardbroom loathed the supermarkets with their artificial lighting and lack of personal space. She shuddered at the thought of it and gathered the herbs and berries around her with extra respect.

She snapped out of her thoughts when a group of Japanese tourists approached, cameras clicking amidst muted exclamations of delight. A _real_ witch in a _real_ witch's cottage. Sighing heavily, she strode over and wrenched the door open. Her carrot soup was getting cold.

'Yes!' She snapped.

'No' she answered curtly.

'Over there' she pointed.

This always happened.

Every. Single. Time.

Across in the distance, in the row facing the forest was a buttercup yellow cottage. The _real_ witch in the village. You'd never have thought it but Ada Cackle was a genuine white witch. Hecate respected her from afar, grudgingly at first, but there was no doubt that Ada knew her stuff. People came to her for all sorts. And she was always lovely. Greeted Hecate in passing, very chirpy, never badmouthed the woman that everyone mistook for a witch. Well, they were both gifted in the ways of magic. But dressed in layers of spring colours, with flyaway silver hair and those little glasses, Miss Cackle looked deceptively unobjectionable. Too many people with too little imagination were shocked at being pointed in another direction.

The Japanese tourists were always undeterred, they didn't mind who was the witch, they just wanted to meet one. Besides, Ada Cackle always had time for everyone. Her door was always open to whoever wanted to get to know her. As usual, she was waving cheerfully from her front door, polished lilac. Today she was wearing…a linen waistcoat with a pleasing pattern of gold thread. Hecate sighed in exasperation at this nonsense.

'Watch out for the blibbering humdingers!' she shouted vengefully after the troublesome tourists. God, they were irritating. Sometimes she wished she could zap them all into frogs. But that wasn't very sporting. And Hecate Hardbroom refused to gain a reputation she wasn't willing to uphold and maintain.

Still glowering, she caught the eye of the pretty witch. As always, the other woman was smiling in her direction. Today, Hecate got the feeling that Ada was waving at her, not the tourists. She frowned at the thought that she was the reason for it, not the company that the other woman was expecting. She wasn't sure how to handle that kind of attention. It made her feel warm inside, which was most unwelcome. Better to keep her distance. No amount of snootiness seemed to put this woman off. She was still as friendly as ever. Hecate retreated sniffily into her cottage and slammed the door, in hindsight, unnecessarily loudly. She'd never really quite got the hang of doors.


End file.
